


The Worst Timing

by Katie74656



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 20:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3991738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katie74656/pseuds/Katie74656
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom should have stayed in Sickbay...what if he did?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Timing

**Author's Note:**

> I waited specifically until May 23rd to post this story as 14 years ago today, Endgame aired and the intrepid crew returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Something has ALWAYS bothered me about part of that episode, and so this is my slightly AU version of how I think it should have gone.
> 
> As always, many thanks to the lovely Sareki for her patience and input.
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and all its glorious characters are the property of the CBS Corporation/Paramount Pictures. I don't own them, I just write about them.

Lieutenant Paris hurried down the corridor on Deck Five towards Sickbay, his mind racing at warp speed. Part of him was hoping this was another false alarm and that his daughter would wait until they’d carried out Admiral Janeway’s plan before making her entrance into the universe. The fact that he was being summoned to Sickbay led him to believe otherwise, so he quickened his pace.

“. . . more time I’m going to rip your holographic head off!” 

“I hope you don’t intend to kiss your baby with that mouth.”

As Tom entered Sickbay, he caught the end of his wife snapping at the EMH, followed by the Doctor’s sarcastic response. B’Elanna was already on the main biobed dressed in a standard blue surgical gown. Adrenaline surged through him, stronger than he had ever felt at the helm.

“Tell me this isn’t another false alarm,” he said, passing the Doctor on his way to B’Elanna’s side. Her head was thrown back, sweat gathering along her hairline and forehead ridges, and she was grunting in obvious discomfort.

“This isn’t another false alarm,” confirmed the Doctor.

“I can’t believe it...”

“Oh, believe it,” B’Elanna replied, mustering all her patience to not bat away the Doctor, who was running a fetal scanner over her stomach.

“I might actually win.”

“What?!” B’Elanna snapped.

“The baby pool,” Tom answered. “I picked today, fifteen hundred hours,” he explained. Tom realized that since Harry was the one organizing the ship wide bet, he had no idea what the prize would be. ‘Probably some Holodeck time, or replicator rations,’ Tom pondered. ‘Not that I’ll really need them if this crazy plan works and we actually get home.’ He was about to open his mouth and include B’Elanna in his thought process, but as he looked down at his wife, the glare she was directing his way made him change his mind. 

“I am so glad I could accommodate you,” B’Elanna managed, feeling her abdomen tense with pressure.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” the Doctor interjected, somewhat oblivious to B’Elanna’s building contraction. “Klingon labours sometimes last several days.” B’Elanna cried out, grabbing the hologram by the collar of his uniform as the wave of pain reached its crescendo. “Of course, I’m sure that won’t be the case here,” he quickly moved out of Torres’ reach as she let him go.

Paris watched helplessly as B’Elanna fought back the pain. They had discussed her options with the Doctor a few weeks before her due date and while women had been opting for various methods of pain control during childbirth for centuries, B’Elanna wanted to proceed without medical intervention for as long as possible. She and Tom had worked out a kind of safe word that she would use if the pain became too intense, and with very few Human-Klingon hybrid deliveries to reference, no one knew for sure what to expect. Tom was beginning to unzip his uniform jacket when he heard the intercom chime.

“Bridge to Lieutenant Paris. We’re ready to get underway.”

‘No, no, no!’ Tom screamed inside his head, B’Elanna clutching at his left hand. “Captain, I’m afraid...” he began to respond.

“Go,” B’Elanna interrupted, catching her breath.

“But,” Tom began, turning to look at her.

“No buts, Flyboy. If this mission is going to succeed, we need our best pilot at the helm,” she said with resolve. “Don’t worry,” she panted, “the Doctor will be here with me.” Tom stared into his wife’s eyes, proud of her strength and courage, but felt his own resolve assert itself as he remembered their conversation in Engineering the day before. Tom had promised himself early on in B’Elanna’s pregnancy that he was going to do things differently than his own father and never put his career ahead of his family. Although, he honestly hadn’t expected his intentions to be put to the test so soon. 

“Is there a problem, Mr. Paris?” On the Bridge, Captain Janeway stood between her command chair and the helm, her hands planted firmly on her hips. The Borg Queen’s nebula loomed on the viewscreen and she knew precious time was slipping away as she heard muffled sounds in the background of her open link with Paris.

“Yes, Captain. I’m sorry, but I’m needed in Sickbay.” Janeway looked back over her left shoulder at Commander Chakotay.

“Now?” he mouthed silently and she rolled her eyes, motioning for him to take over for Paris and assume the conn.

“Understood, Tom; good luck.”

“Yes, Ma’am; thank you,” Paris drawled, closing the comm link.

“What are you doing?” B’Elanna exclaimed, her eyes wide.

“Voyager has plenty of pilots,” he started. “There is nowhere else I need to be right now.” He reached out, cupping B’Elanna’s face in his hands and kissed her longingly before resting his hands on her belly. “Besides, how will I know if I win the baby pool?” B’Elanna rolled her eyes and elbowed him before tensing in pain again. Tom soothed her through the worst of it before he finished removing his uniform jacket and tossing it on an empty biobed. B’Elanna was squirming, trying to find a more comfortable position.

“I want to get off this bed,” she told Tom, the frustration of being confined evident in her voice.

“Doc?” Paris asked over his shoulder.

“I don’t see why not. There’s time yet, and walking could help move things along.” B’Elanna nodded at Tom and reached for him to help her off the bed. She shrugged on her red robe over the blue medical gown and started for the door. “Where do you think you are going?” the Doctor stopped the couple as the doors opened. Tom and B’Elanna both turned, casting him withering glances.

“To walk around Deck Five,” B’Elanna answered, a tone of annoyance in her voice.

“Lieutenant, you can’t leave Sickbay with the ship at Red Alert. You could end up trapped by debris and unable to return.” Tom considered the Doctor’s scenario and grudgingly nodded, stepping back from the door.

“And exactly where am I supposed to go in here?” B’Elanna asked, gesturing to the small medical bay. The EMH looked around the cramped quarters, contemplating her counter argument.

“Alright, fine,” he ceded, “you can walk the corridors outside Sickbay.” Tom and B’Elanna turned to leave again. “If you can’t see the doors to Sickbay,” the Doctor warned, “you’ve gone too far.”

“I think there was more room in Sickbay,” B’Elanna snarled as she and Tom stepped out into the corridor. Tom looked right to the intersection with the hallway that led to the Transporter Room and left to the Turbolift, shrugging his shoulders.

“At least we can get away from the Doc for a bit.”

“And the ship’s carpet is kind of nice on my bare feet,” she wiggled her toes before scrunching her face in pain and reaching for the bulkhead for support. At a loss of what to do, Tom rubbed her lower back and offered encouragement as she struggled through the contraction.

“That’s it. Breathe, breathe. Almost there,” he said softly. B’Elanna nodded, moaning and swaying her hips back and forth. “That was a big one,” Tom remarked as her breathing normalized.

“Mmmmmm,” she answered, her eyes closed. She paused a moment, collecting her thoughts, before resuming her walk down the hallway. The pair completed several circuits back and forth down the corridor, and had just reached the Turbolift when the ship shook violently.

“I guess we’ve entered the nebula,” Tom quipped as he steadied B’Elanna, turning to head back towards Sickbay as the ship shuddered again. B’Elanna stumbled onto all fours, but waved Tom away as he stooped to help her up.

“Give me...a...minute.”

“We have the worst timing,” he said, rolling his eyes. As the contraction subsided, B’Elanna let Tom help her stand.

“Let’s get back to Sickbay,” she said, and the pair moved as quickly as B’Elanna’s condition would allow them. As the doors opened, and they stumbled in, they noticed that Sickbay was now a flurry of activity. The EMH motioned to the vacant surgical bay and dismissed Paris’ offer to help triage the crewmembers that had started trickling in. Once Tom and B’Elanna were back to the main biobed, the Doctor activated a forcefield with a privacy screen and sound proofing. Tom grabbed a medical tricorder and gave his wife a quick scan.

“You’re getting there, and the walk certainly helped. Do you want to lie down?” B’Elanna shook her head as she leaned on the biobed, swaying her hips again. She bowed her head and began to concentrate on her breathing. Her dark brown hair fell into her face as she clenched her hands into tight fists on the bed. Tom was monitoring the contraction on the tricorder as the Doctor passed through the forcefield. He reviewed the instrument and began speaking quietly with Paris.

“You will speak with me,” B’Elanna growled, catching both men off guard. “This is my body, I’m going through this. Speak to me.”

“Apologies, Lieutenant,” the Doctor replied sheepishly as Tom moved around the bed with a cool cloth for the back of her neck. Paris had been his trusted medic since Kes had left the ship and it was par from the course to consult with him on a patient’s condition.

“Sorry,” Tom whispered, rubbing B’Elanna’s shoulders.

“Lieutenant,” the Doctor began, “you are progressing as expected; however, your water hasn’t broken yet.”

“And. . .”

“And the Doc thinks that might speed things up a bit,” Paris finished.

“Let’s do it,” B’Elanna said, straightening to her full height.

“That will certainly increase the intensity of your contractions,” the EMH explained.

“I said: let’s get this show on the road.” The Doctor nodded and gathered a few towels, handing them to Tom to put on the floor. The ship rocked violently, throwing Tom and B’Elanna to the floor as the Doctor’s program shimmered in and out of existence. 

“We’re fine,” Tom said, holding B’Elanna as an untimely contraction enveloped her.

“They’re breaking my ship,” B’Elanna whispered hoarsely, resting her head on Tom’s chest. He hushed her, smoothing her hair from her face.

“I’ve transferred my program to the mobile emitter, but I’m anticipating more casualties.” Tom helped B’Elanna to her feet and the Doctor pressed a hypospray against her lower abdomen. B’Elanna squirmed uncomfortably as amniotic fluid gushed from between her legs onto the towels on the floor. Almost immediately, another contraction hit and B’Elanna cried out in surprise at the escalated pain, reaching out to grab for Tom as her knees buckled. He supported her awkwardly by her elbows as she tensed and whimpered.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said, finally free of the pain. The EMH nodded and passed through the forcefield to check on the wounded.

“Here, B’Elanna. Lean on me,” Tom offered, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Computer, activate program Torres Maternity One.” The lights dimmed, soft music played, and B’Elanna leaned deeper into Tom, allowing him to take most of her weight. She groaned quietly and her breathing tempo changed again. Ready this time, Tom held her firmly and B’Elanna sunk into his arms, bending her knees and crying out again.

The very fabric of time and space seemed to contort around the pair as they partook in their own battle, independent from the rest of the crew. The ship rocked and bucked, but they carried out their slow, arduous dance in oblivion. B’Elanna’s contractions continued to intensify, each coming faster and lasting longer than the one before. After a time, B’Elanna unwrapped her arms from Tom’s shoulders and reached for the bed.

“I need to lie down,” B’Elanna moaned, breathing heavily. Tom guided her onto the biobed and crouched to her eye level as she curled onto her side. He held her left hand in his right, stroking her hair off her ridges and quietly offering words of encouragement. He had only ever seen her this tired in the Vidiian caves seven years ago, and it scared him now just as much as it had then.

“Tom, I . . .” B’Elanna panted as another wave hit her. He talked her through, but she barely had time to recover her breath before the next hit. “I can’t . . .” she managed before clenching instinctively against the cramping in her abdomen. She sobbed and grabbed at both of his hands as a third contraction came in rapid succession. 

“Come on, B’Elanna. Breathe, breathe, breathe. That’s it. Breathe. It’s almost over. She locked eyes with him, struggling to get her breathing under control.

“Bubblegum,” she whispered with all the strength she could muster.

“Okay, hang on.” Tom said, springing to his feet and walking towards the Doctor, almost running into the forcefield dividing the surgical bay from the rest of Sickbay. He went to tap his commbadge on his chest, before remembering that it was on his uniform jacket, also on the other side of the forcefield. “Damnit!” he exclaimed. B’Elanna, still curled on her left side, chuckled quietly before moaning and reaching out her right hand for him. He held her hand, pounding the biobed with the palm of his other hand in frustration. Almost immediately, the Doctor shimmered into view.

“You rang?” he began dryly. Tom looked at the hologram confused and then down at the biobed, rolling his eyes. In his panic to help B’Elanna, he’d forgotten the emergency call button.

“Bubblegum,” Tom repeated B’Elanna’s safe word anxiously. The Doctor scanned B’Elanna and tiled his head to the side.

“Indeed,” he confirmed, walking to a tray and loading a hypospray. He pressed it to her lower back and Tom watched the tension in B’Elanna’s face relax and her breathing calm. She sighed and softened her grip on Tom’s hand. “Better now, Lieutenant?”

“Mmmm hmmm,” B’Elanna nodded, closing her eyes and taking several long, deep breaths, before drifting into a light sleep. The ship shuddered and fresh Red Alert klaxons wailed. As B’Elanna napped, the Doctor and Paris tended to the wounded, mending bones and treating burns. As the last of the crew had been discharged, the medical console just outside the surgical bay chirped and the Doctor and Tom both moved to view the alert. 

“Sickbay to Bridge.”

“Go ahead,” Janeway’s came across the intercom.

“The Admiral has been assimilated. The pathogen has been deployed.”

“Understood,” Janeway answered on the private commlink before broadcasting ship wide. “All crew, this is the captain. Stand by to enter the transwarp aperture.” Almost immediately, the ship rocked again.

“I thought it would take longer to navigate the nebula and for the admiral to deploy the pathogen,” Tom remarked, steadying himself.

“It’s been over four hours, Mr. Paris. How long were you expecting it to take?” Tom’s blond eyebrows shot up and then he furrowed his forehead, pondering what the EMH had said while gazing over to his sleeping wife. 

“So how long now?” he asked.

“Well, if I remember the tactical briefing by Mr. Tuvok, it should take about an hour to navigate the conduit and then . . .”

“I meant B’Elanna,” Tom interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“Of course; as you can see, she’s resting, which is good. The analgesic I administered is allowing her to relax and letting her body do as nature intended.”

“Time, Doc?” Tom asked, running his hand through his damp hair. Before the hologram could answer, B’Elanna began to moan again. 

“Apparently now,” the Doctor replied dryly. Tom quickly went to B’Elanna’s side and was relieved to see that she no longer looked as tired as before. Her eyes were bright and she returned his gaze excitedly.

“I think I need to push,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows and letting her head fall back. While the analgesic had blocked the pain, B’Elanna could still feel the pressure of each contraction and instinct was driving every muscle in her body to expel her daughter from her.

“Hang on and let the Doctor make sure,” Tom said as B’Elanna growled. The EMH joined them and after a quick scan, smiled at her.

“Remember what we discussed; when you feel a contraction, bear down and push. Mr. Paris will count down the contraction and you can rest in between.” He wheeled in the medical bassinet and activated a function on the biobed, causing two platforms near B’Elanna’s feet to raise perpendicular to the bed. 

“You ready?” Tom asked, kissing her before helping her slide down the bed to rest her feet on the platforms.

“Yeah, you?” she replied, but before he could answer, B’Elanna tensed, braced her feet against the platforms, tucked her chin and pushed.

“Good, just like that,” Tom affirmed. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, relax.” B’Elanna released the breath she was holding, arched her back and moaned. “Here comes another one,” Tom warned, looking at the sensor readings. B’Elanna readied herself again and bore down as Tom started to count once more.

“That’s it, Lieutenant,” the Doctor encouraged as the latest contraction ended. B’Elanna snarled, lying down. Tom, still holding her hand, wiped the sweat from her forehead. The biobed beeped and Tom helped B’Elanna sit up.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six,” B’Elanna let out her breath and collapsed back down to the biobed as the ship bucked violently and the lights went out. This time, only the emergency lights came back on.

“All hands, brace for impact,” Janeway’s voice rang throughout the ship.

“And that was what exactly?” Paris asked sarcastically, looking towards the ceiling. The ship lurched again and B’Elanna cried out as a contraction hit. Tom looked at the Doctor confused.

“The analgesic is wearing off,” he said matter-of-factly, “and she is too far along now to re-administer.” He turned his gaze to B’Elanna. “You need to push,” he ordered and she shook her head, her face still contorted in pain.

“Come on,” Tom whispered. 

“You push,” she spat, closing her eyes.

“I can’t,” he replied helplessly as the ship shuddered. He felt the hum of the engines stop and pushed the thought to the back of his mind. “But I can help.” B’Elanna slowly lifted her eyelids, staring into her husband’s bloodshot blue eyes and nodded. Tom kicked off his boots and climbed onto the biobed behind B’Elanna.

“The engines aren’t running,” she said sadly, looking up at him.

“I know,” he answered as the Doctor’s tricorder chimed.

“Alright, Lieutenant,” the Doctor started from his place at the end of the bed, “I need you to push with this contraction.”

“You’re almost to the finish line and then we’ll have our girl,” Tom said softly but excitedly as B’Elanna repositioned herself and tensed. “Ten, nine, eight . . .” he counted her through, helping her crunch forward and holding back her knees. This time, B’Elanna could feel the baby descend further and noticed that the top of her stomach was no longer taut. 

“Good! Another like that,” the EMH exclaimed and B’Elanna obliged, grateful that Tom was supporting her tired body and limbs. Again, she felt the baby move lower, and a new surge of pain made her cry out and grab Tom’s leg.

“She’s crowning,” the Doctor updated.

“Breathe, B’Elanna,” Tom said through gritted teeth as she relaxed her grip on his thigh. The hologram nodded at Tom. “One more big push,” he whispered. B’Elanna inhaled deeply and bore down one last time, gasping as her daughter’s head and shoulders made their appearance.

“Alright, stop pushing. Relax. Here she is,” said the Doctor as the rest of the baby’s body slipped easily into his waiting arms. B’Elanna fell back against Tom’s ready chest breathing heavily as the sound of their daughter’s cries echoed through Sickbay. “Mr. Paris, would you like to cut the cord?” Tom peeled himself from behind B’Elanna, laying her down gently and reaching for the laser scalpel. He grinned wildly as he severed the connection between his daughter and his wife. “Let me clean her up and I’ll be right back.”

Tom returned to B’Elanna, who was also smiling, tears running down her cheeks. He resumed his place behind her and she leaned her head against his chest peacefully, closing her eyes.

“You did it. I’m so proud of you,” he said lovingly, kissing her ridges and rubbing her arms.

“There is someone here who would like to say hello,” the Doctor said as he approached with Miral, swaddled in a blanket. B’Elanna reached out and accepted the infant into her arms. Tom wrapped his arms around B’Elanna, stroking the baby’s ridges with his thumb as the reassuring hum of the engines returned and normal lighting resumed.

“Where do you think we are?” B’Elanna asked Tom, her eyes never leaving Miral’s face. Tom smiled, taking in his new family.

“Home.”


End file.
